“You’ll have to meet Mom at some point,” he called out.
I kept marching down the hallway. “Let’s see how things go with the blood-related mother first.” I crossed my fingers, not entirely sure which way I wanted things to go, and went to keep my damn promise.
12
Mom was teaching, so I drove over to UBC to catch the end of her class. I slipped into the back of the lecture hall. It was summer semester and this was a third-year history class, so there were few enough students that she noticed my entrance.
She was wearing the green shirt. This weird glowy feeling warmed my chest. Idiot. It was a shirt. It was clean. She didn’t know I’d be here today and it had nothing to do with me. Especially since Mom didn’t even pause speaking when I came in, her eyes glancing off me from her position at her lectern to the student in the front row who’d raised her hand.
“Can you elaborate on what you meant by ‘David was not the underdog of legend?’” the student asked.
“Underdog implies that the odds are stacked against the person because they haven’t the skill or experience.” Mom had devoted her academic career to becoming the foremost expert on King David. She’d told Ari and I that originally she’d planned to focus on the Roman rule of Judea back in the fifties B.C.E., but after Ari’s destiny was revealed, she’d switched her attention to the man who’d founded the Brotherhood.
Even her professional choices were centered around Ari.
I pried my fingers off of my purse and smoothed out my expression. Mom was watching me.
“David was unwilling to follow the rules of honorable conduct that Goliath expected,” she said. “He brought a projectile to the fight instead of engaging in hand-to-hand combat. Even King Saul expected the single combat method, as evidenced by him attempting to dress David in his own armor.”
“David played dirty,” the student said.
“David played to win.” Mom adjusted the glasses she wore to clearly see students at the back of the room. I forced myself to remain relaxed. “Hitting Goliath with that slingshot wasn’t luck. David was a precise slinger. It was how he’d fought off wild animals as a shepherd. Armor was also heavy, so David kept speed and agility on his side by refusing to wear any. Then there’s the fact that Goliath requested that David come to him. Why? Goliath was a seasoned warrior. A giant of a man. He wouldn’t have been scared of David. It’s now believed that he suffered from acromegaly.” She wrote the word on the board behind her.
“Like André the Giant,” another student said.
“Yes,” Mom said. “Acromegaly causes an overproduction of the growth hormone. That comes with a host of medical problems including vision difficulties.” Mom stepped out from behind the lectern. “Why wasn’t he an underdog?” She ticked the reason off on her fingers. “David was not lacking experience, nor did he only have a slim chance. Instead, he assessed the facts in a way that no one else had. Everyone else had read the situation differently, dependent on their understanding of how things had always been resolved. David had his own unique lens on events. He did what had to be done to win. It’s to be admired, not sold short as merely luck.”
Once more her eyes met mine. I didn’t understand the takeaway. Mom didn’t know what I was up to with the Brotherhood. It’s not something Ari would have shared and I certainly didn’t tell her.
The bell rang and students gathered up their books. Mom reminded them about their papers due next class.
I made my way down the stairs to her, wondering what I was missing. “Mom.”
She stilled, a folder of lecture notes and a couple of fat hardcover books pressed to her chest. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s–”
“I said it was fine.” She brushed past me.
I stood there, warring with myself. New students filed in and the professor gave me an odd look, so I took my indecision out into the hallway, standing next to the vending machine.
Mom’s departure was my cue to get back in my car. To quote the immortal Snagglepuss, “Exit, stage left ev-en.” It’s not like we had to interact all that much since I’d moved out, and when we did, we’d both be civil. We’d perfected that.
I stormed her office before I could second guess myself. She sat at her desk, staring out the window. She’d added a red and blue throw rug since the last time I’d been here and the small sofa in the corner was a bit shabbier, but otherwise it was as I remembered it. It still smelled of sun-warmed books and her Chanel perfume. Framed photos of Ari and myself at different ages, always grinning at the camera with our arms draped over each other, lined the window sill. They were even stacked in front of history books, along with photos of her and Dad on various trips.
“I meant it, okay? I was tired and sad and just done with that party and I know that’s not a good excuse, but please understand that I mean this.” I closed her office door. “I shouldn’t have called you a bitch.”
Mom swiveled in the chair to face me, cleaning her glasses with more vigor than required. “No. You shouldn’t have.” She didn’t offer anything in return.
Students’ conversation out in the hall about their tuition payments drifted in through the closed door. Since I’d rather have a kappa demon suck my guts out through my ass than have Mom start in about my UBC status again, I gestured at the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”
One of the photos on the bookshelf caught my eye. I picked it up. The camera had caught me pulling an over-the-top, my head tilted and lips curled in a sassy smirk, wearing a tux costume.
“Your last competition,” Mom said. My Achilles had snapped soon after and it was off the stage and into the emergency room and physical therapy.
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Another life.”
“You blew everyone else out of the water.” She didn’t sound proud, exactly, but she didn’t sound indifferent either.
I replaced the photo on the shelf with a dull thud. “Why did you tell that story about David not being an underdog?”
She leaned over her desk to close her blinds on the afternoon sun slanting into the room. Out in the hall, the classroom door shut, leaving the two of us in the hush of this darkened office. “Why do you think?”
I hated it when she answered my question with a question. I hated it even more that I wished I had the answer, especially since there was an expectation in her measured stare. A stare that was going to flash with disappointment in a moment, the way it always did.
I flicked on the overhead lights, making her blink. “No clue. Why did you?”
“Mallory asked.”
“Right.” I didn’t have the guts to ask why she’d worn that shirt, but there was a question I could throw her way and actually get a useful answer on. “Did you ever hear anything about King David and witches?”
Mom raised her eyebrows, an intrigued glint in her eyes. “There are witches?”
“Big time.”